A Mere Mortal's Existence
by hunt4max
Summary: Erik's jouney, post ALW movie. An unusual woman unknowingly shelters the O.G. Her strange world is ready to include him. Is he ready to step out? ErikOC pairing. WARNING:OC NOT MARY SUE is in possession of a functioning brain. Rating for later chapters.
1. Discovering Mortality

Thanks for taking interest in my story. I hope you find the story to live up to the summary. Please Review!

A/N: I don't own Erik, The Phantom of the Opera, any characters that are familiar to you, the Opera Populaire, the movies, the musical, or the music. Don't sue me. Please.

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Chapter 1 – Discovering Mortality

Erik ran blindly. Not seeing what was ahead of him or below his feet, all he saw was images of what he had just left behind. His beloved Opera House on fire. Christine with tears streaming down her face – tears of fear for Raoul's ominous fate. Christine's turned back as she walked away from him for the last time. They seemed to haunt him, jeer at him, chase him until he was delirious with guilt and endless pain.

The streets of nocturnal Paris were unfamiliar and confusing as Erik lost himself within the narrow alleys. The familiar insistent voice in his head mocked him. _Why are you running from your imminent fate? Do you not know you are getting your just due? Monster! You cannot hide from your deeds. Underneath that disgusting face you are still a mere mortal! You of all people should know: you do not deserve special treatment. No man is immune from consequences of his actions. Is this not what you wanted? How many times have you tried to destroy yourself? How many times have others tried to destroy you? Why not meet your end now? Does it matter that it will be at the hands of others?_

But a strange, unfamiliar feeling had taken over. It is natural to strive for survival; it is a characteristic of all living things. Something had awakened in him that refused to lose, to give up. After a lifetime of wishing for the means to an end, he suddenly had a powerful desire to keep living. Lungs aching, ears ringing with cries of "Murderer!", Erik tried to force himself to keep going, but his body refused to cooperate. Once again reminded that he was a mere mortal, Erik felt his legs collapse underneath him as the darkness overtook him.


	2. In Which Erik Reenters the World

I'm sorry it took so long to update. I've been on vacation for the last two weeks in Alaska, and surprisingly being stuck in an RV in the middle of Alaska is quite inspiring (actually, I wrote out of boredom). So I hope the next bit is satisfying!

Thanks to MasqueradingThroughLife, for being my first reviewer, and a very supportive and enthusiastic one, at that! Sorry Chapter 1 was so short, and I hope this chapter's long enough to satisfy (but not bore) you. Here's to hoping you like the next one (and that I get more reviews)!

A/N: I do not own Erik, The Phantom of the Opera, Christine (I'm glad I don't own her. She's so incredibly naïve and childlike.), Nadir, Madame Giry, other characters you know about, The Opera Populaire, the movies, the musical, or the music. They belong to Gaston Leroux, and ALW. What I do own is a copy of the book, the sheet music for "All I Ask of You", and the OC's in this story.

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Chapter 2 – In Which Erik Re-Enters the World of the Living

Erik regained consciousness in a dazed stupor, recalling little of the past events. Groggy, tired, and confused, he looked around, taking in his surroundings with growing uneasiness. What happened last night? Was it even last night? How did he get here? Where was "here"? Questions flooded through his mind as he attempted to gather his wits and remember. When he finally did, he wished he hadn't. Everything came back. The disastrous opening night. Kidnapping Christine. The resulting destruction of his beloved Opera Populaire. Letting her and Raoul go, while the pieces of his already broken heart were ground into dust and scattered by the wind. He remembered running out the hidden doorway after smashing all the mirrors. He recollected the mob's chants and running through what seemed like all of Paris, trying to avoid them. But beyond that, nothing came to mind.

Erik's first priority was to determine his location. Looking around the small room, he eliminated the list of possibilities that had been growing in his head. He was definitely not in jail. He wasn't in a hospital or institution. He wasn't even sure that he was in Paris anymore. The room was small and simple. The inclined ceiling indicated that he was in an attic room. The furniture was plain and sensible. It indicated someone of the lower class; not poor, but certainly not a noble, or even a man of profession.

Then Erik noticed the smell. It was unmistakable, distinct, and strong, he wondered how he had missed it for so long. Chocolate. Not just a faint scent, but an odor so powerful and intoxicating that they seemed to lure all his senses, not just his nose. He could almost see and taste it. He remembered it from Madame Giry's visits when he was younger; she'd bring them as a special treat. Though the gifts were few and far between, Erik still felt the gratitude and happiness that he'd felt when she brought them, all those years ago. Before he became the Phantom, and certainly before Madame Giry grew so afraid of the boy she had rescued from such pain and suffering. As he grew older, he still longed for the occasional indulgence, but hadn't dared to venture out and purchase some for himself. No chocolatier was open at the time he usually went out, and he hadn't thought it was worth risking his safety and solitude for that luxury. He couldn't ask anyone for it, either. Imagine, the Opera Ghost demanding a supply of chocolate with his monthly twenty thousand francs!

Now, just breathing in that rich, sweet smell was so overwhelming for him. Lying in bed, with blankets piled on top of his body, Erik took the opportunity of the new surroundings and stimuli to distract himself from the pain that consumed him inside, like a hungry fire that spreads by feeding on everything in its path. And at that moment, the biggest distraction of all entered.

The door quietly eased open, and a young woman walked in, carrying a tray. Panicking, Erik bolted out of bed and searched frantically for another exit, or even a shadowed corner to disappear into like so many times in his career as the resident Opera Ghost, and realized with a sinking feeling of doom and trepidation that a small room in the middle of the day offers no hiding spots for a grown man stretching well over six feet. He briefly contemplated strangling the person, but he wasn't physically, emotionally, or mentally up to the task. Christine's voice, normally so sweet and docile, had been laced with equal amounts of fury and fear as she demanded "Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust for blood?", that night that seemed both ages and mere seconds ago. Those words still rang in his ears, dissolving the last shred of the thought.

"Oh, I see you're awake. How are you feeling? Did you sleep well? Are you hungry?" Ignorant of the danger she had been in, no matter how brief, the woman rushed on, meeting Erik's eyes with no curious stares at the right side of his face, like all the other people who encounter the mask for the first time. That's when Erik realized why, as his stomach dropped to the floor. He wasn't wearing it.

The woman suddenly grasped the reason for her companion's silence. _Poor thing_, she thought to herself. _He's probably not used to being around other people with his face uncovered._ Granted, she understood the reason why, and it had given her a bit of a shock when she turned the unconscious body over and saw the deformity back in Paris. But she had seen worse, and had had four days to get used to it. It had been during those four days that she vowed to show this unfortunate man kindness and acceptance that he probably never encountered before in his life.

Compassionately, and with a quieter, gentler voice than she had used before, she said in a soothing voice, "Don't be afraid. You're safe here. No one's going to hurt you. I'm the only one who knows of your presence. You don't have to hide your face here. I'm used to it, and I'm not going to harm you in any way." She put the tray down on the small chest of drawers and watched the man's face betray a dozen unidentifiable emotions.

Erik couldn't help but stare as he searched for words. Only once before had he been in a situation where someone had offered him kindness _after _seeing his hideous visage. Actually, this was only the second time he had been shown kindness, period, other than Christine's constant state of dumb awe and wonder while in the presence of her "Angel of Music". And her kiss couldn't be counted as genuine kindness, either. More like an act of desperation and pity. Taken aback, he stood rooted to the spot, wondering if it was all a dream. Then, with his mind in shock, and his body weak as a newborn, he felt the floor leap up suddenly to catch him, while the darkness he had frantically searched for finally arrived and carried him off.

Almost immediately, he opened his eyes, and bewildered, not to mention still mute, looked up at the woman in a daze. She was trying to help him back into bed, muttering under her breath in a foreign tongue that made Erik think of La Carlotta, for some odd reason, even though she didn't resemble her in any obvious way. Frustrated with his lack of control and state of weakness, Erik managed to get up with the help of the woman. He was surprised both by the strong odor of chocolate that came from her body and hair, as well as her unbelievable strength. Despite her small frame (she must have been almost a whole foot shorter than Erik); she was strong enough to lift Erik with little assistance on his part.

With some difficulty Erik got back into bed, and the woman sat down in the only chair and thought of a way to make him eat something. Erik felt his shame and fear overcome him. Familiar insecurities kicked in and he couldn't bring himself to look her in the face. Apparently she noticed too, because she leaned forward and gently turned his face towards her, cupping his chin in her hand. Starting at the touch, Erik couldn't help but shy away from the foreign sensation of a fellow human's touch. She felt him shrink under her touch and gaze, but, refusing to let him be afraid of her any longer, she spoke to him, looking straight into his frightened and panic-filled eyes.

"You have nothing, nothing, to fear here. This house seems to keep people away, and it's too far away from any houses to give me nosy neighbors. Don't feel afraid or self-conscious around me." She reassured, and then added softly, and rather enigmatically, "I've seen worse." When that didn't seem to relax her guest, she changed tactics, choosing to be curt, but not unkind.

"Now eat. You've barely had enough food to keep a small child alive for the last four days, and you need it to regain your strength. I hope you like sweets; I brought you some chocolate. Please, rest. You are weak as a newborn." And with that, she left the room, leaving Erik to his own thoughts. Too weak to do otherwise, he slept, the smell of chocolate tinting his sleep.


	3. The Power of Chocolate

I'm really sorry about the long delays between chapters: I know getting updates out of me is like pulling teeth. It's just that since school started, I've been working for hours every night on my homework, and that just saps any creative energy out of me.

How is it so far? I know the last chapter was really mysterious and one-sided. You're probably wondering about the woman, her name, her origins, how she managed to rescue Erik, etc. Bear with me, please? I wanted you to be in the same circumstances as Erik: completely in the dark. But now, Let there be Light!

To my reviewers: A thousand thank you's. Here's a load of virtual chocolate. XOXOXO They're kisses. Get it:-)

-MasqueradingThroughLife: THANK YOU! I know. Poor Erik. Such a horrid life, and to top it off, he is courageous enough to act on his first love, and gets is heart crushed. But the fact is, what doesn't kill you will eventually make him stronger, and besides, Christine is too young and immature for him. So in the long run his heartbreak is for the better.

-Secret et Estrange Ange: You're right. She's partly inspired by Chocolat and its soundtrack, which I listen to all the time. (how utterly fab was Johnny in that movie?)

A/N: If you've heard of it (or him or her) before, I don't own it (or him or her). Also, my Erik is the 2005 Schumacher Movie version, and not the book or musical version. Although they are a great source of inspiration. So there is no Nadir, Erik's torture career in Persia, or any artistic additions Susan Kay added (like the fact that he's in his fifties when he falls in love with Christine. Ew.).

Constructive criticism, please! Are my chapters too short? Is Erik too docile? Is my OC interesting enough?

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Chapter 3 - The Power of Chocolate

Thinking of her new houseguest, and ways to lure him out of that shell that he'd carefully built for the last 30+ years, Eleyna walked down the narrow spiral stairs. She mentally kicked herself for rushing headfirst and saying anything that popped into her head. _Dimwit, _she chided, _he probably isn't used to blabbering strangers, let alone intrusive ones. _But still, Eleyna wanted to reach out to the poor man. The look on his face when she'd first walked in had made her want to cry in pity. A look of pure terror and desperation had distorted his face, reminding her of a deer spotting a hunter, knowing that this moment was its last. She decided to treat him like a normal human being, no matter how long it took him to get used to his presence. He reminded her of her bittersweet childhood, and her poor mother, but she quickly pushed those memories into the back of her mind.

Entering the small kitchen, she retied her hair back with a ribbon and picked up this week's order from the table. Like her grandmother before her, she set about creating the delicious candy that not just put coins in her pocket, but gave her some measure of freedom and independence, as well. She lived well outside the small village of Augustine, where the bakery happened to be the only confectionary. No one in the village had the knowledge and skill to make chocolates. Except for her and her grandmother, before she had died. Eleyna had apprenticed herself to her grandmother as soon as she had arrived, ten years ago. She remembered how soothing the smell of chocolates was, and how the warm kitchen had seemed so safe and inviting to an orphan who'd just lost both her parents.

Mixing, measuring, and heating, Eleyna worked almost entirely by reflex, her hands acting without much thought. She had done this so often, she wouldn't be surprised if she could do it in her sleep. Again, her mind wandered up to the man upstairs, sleeping in her grandmother's bed. She had discovered him when her foot had caught on his body. Lowering her lantern, she had seen him, unconscious, lying face down in the middle of the alley. When she turned him over, his deformed face had startled her into almost shattering her lantern. Eleyna knew, within three minutes of observing him, that he didn't belong in Paris or to anyone anymore than she did. Eleyna recognized the expression on his face; it was desperation and exhaustion. Feeling almost responsible, she had made the impulsive decision to take him home. Her horse and cart were waiting at the end of the alley, and she managed to half carry and half drag his body to it. Clearing away her purchases to the side, she laid the man in the cart, and set off for home. She never liked spending any more time than necessary in Paris; she'd rather brave the country roads than Parisian alleys at night, and besides, half-decent inns were expensive.

Setting the finished products to cool, Eleyna briefly contemplated going up to check on him, but decided against it. She promised herself to go later, trying to disregard the fact that she had taken the coward's way out. Stretching out on the worn chaise in the cozy living room, she picked up the book she'd been reading, and ignored the pile of laundry beside the door.

Upstairs, Erik woke up again and finally acknowledged his growling stomach. He glanced at the tray, and managed to make his way across the small room to the dresser. The tray held a covered bowl, a small loaf of coarse dark bread, a teapot, cup, and a small plate of chocolates. The covered bowl was, surprisingly, still warm. Feeling weak, he picked up the tray and set it down on the bed carefully. After slipping underneath the warm quilt, he sat up and put the tray on his legs, and took the lid off the bowl. It contained a thick beef stew, and smelled delicious. He couldn't remember the last proper meal he had eaten. Living beneath the Opera house had limited his culinary experience. Music, and later on Christine had taken up his time and energy; trifles like meals were hastily taken care of. Just what he could steal from the kitchens: some bread, cheese, fruit, and sometimes meat, if he was lucky.

While eating, Erik thought about his mysterious savior. He couldn't remember much about her; he had been in too much of a daze to observe her closely. All he could remember was a soothing voice and a pair of eyes that was as dark as a starless sky. Erik was at a loss as to how to handle the situation. He needed a place to stay. He couldn't go back to Paris, even if Christine and Raoul kept his secret; Paris held too many bad memories for him. His savings were still below the Opera house, very well hidden. He'd have to go back for them. Then, afterwards…he didn't know. He had nowhere to go. No ties to the world. He'd isolated his only friend Madam Giry years ago, when he'd taken the identity of the Phantom of the Opera. He couldn't go to her for help, under any circumstances.

With most of the meal completed, Erik turned his attention to the chocolates. They were of assorted size and shape, and Erik picked the largest one first. Not having had sweets in such a long time, Erik hesitated, then slowly placed the candy inside his mouth. At once, euphoria filled his mouth and quickly traveled through the rest of his body, overwhelming his senses. The dark, bittersweet chocolate was velvety and robust, and melted away to reveal soft, sweet caramel. Erik leaned back into the pillows, closed his eyes, and let all his thoughts drift away. Everything, Christine's abandonment, the self inflicted destruction of his home, the loneliness that had shadowed him all his life, was momentarily drowned in a sea of blissful delight. He briefly savoured the taste before moving on to the next one. White chocolate filled with a light raspberry flavoured cream. It was almost weightless, and the flavour was subtle. That was followed by chopped almonds folded in sweet milk chocolate, and the softness of the chocolate complemented the crunchy texture of the nuts. Each one was skillfully made, and delicious. Erik had no doubt that the maker was an artist, a creator of edible art. As accomplished in their expertise as Erik was in music. He wondered briefly, as he swallowed the last piece, if his music affected people in the same way the chocolates had affected him. When the last piece was eaten, Erik was greatly disappointed to discover the empty plate.

Finishing the best meal he'd eaten in years, Erik pushed back the tray. He felt much better, and rather restless. The bed that had been so comforting and warm a moment ago suddenly seemed stifling and restraining. Besides, being idle allowed his mind to wander back to the deep wound in his heart. The years it had taken him to gather courage to act on behalf of his feelings had backfired and blown up in his face, destroying everything. Now, he didn't want to think about it. Maybe, when the wound stopped aching as much, he'd start to face it. For now, he just wanted to forget the events of the last several years that had led up to his love, his obsession, his madness. So he fought back the covers and rose, wanting to stretch his legs and bury that smarting hurt deep in his chest.

Erik was surprised when he realized that he was naked from the waist up. He was even more surprised to see an old and worn, though clean, shirt and trousers beside the bed, laid out on the chair. He put the shirt on, feeling self-conscious, and then changed out of his very dirty trousers, which, thankfully, had been left on his body. Such attire was foreign to Erik. Erik was used to wearing only full opera dress, regardless of the time of day. Now, with only a simple shirt and pants, he felt naked. Furthermore, Erik never ventured far without a mask. The lack of the article that had been with him ever since he can remember made him ill at ease. The size of the cottage and the fact that it was sometime past noon didn't help his situation, either. Surely there wouldn't be any shady corners and handy hidden trapdoors to help him.

Another thought stopped him at the door. If he encountered the woman again, what was he supposed to say? Erik had never interacted normally with other human beings. His circumstances had never granted him that luxury. He couldn't just approach her and converse with her like nothing had happened. Besides, his face…who could ever speak or treat him like a normal human being after seeing it? Erik couldn't imagine receiving such treatment.

But he had received it. Recalling the strange encounter with the woman, Erik puzzled over the strange turn of events. He couldn't remember what she'd said, but he didn't remember any screaming, crying, fainting, or hysteria. Odd, he thought. Especially compared to Christine. When she'd seen his face, she'd wept silently, frozen with fright, like a young child. The woman smelling of chocolate didn't do that. She'd looked him in the eye without batting an eyelash.

Making up his mind, Erik pulled the latch and silently slipped through the door. The house must have been old; there were no knobs on the doors. The top floor was small, just containing two small rooms: the one Erik was in and presumably the woman's. Erik saw through the open door a room much like the one he'd been in, with simple furniture, a small window, and slanted ceiling. Another sweep of his keen eyes told him more. He'd seen enough bedrooms in the Opera House to know that what a woman's private chamber was supposed to look like. Lots of cosmetics and jewellery, as well as trinkets and clutter were the norm. Obviously, the woman didn't fit into that category, for her room was neat, uncluttered, and not a singe cosmetic item could be seen, not even a bottle of perfume. Her vanity was bare except for a hairbrush, basin and pitcher, a small hand mirror, and two or three books. Suddenly feeling invasive, he hastily withdrew from the room and stepped back into the hallway.

That was all that was on the top floor. Erik again weighed his chances with going downstairs. Pacing up and down the constricted hallway, his head nearly brushing the ceiling, he contemplated his opinions. Erik decided to push his luck further, and started his descent down the narrow stairs.

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Please Please Please review! I've had over a hundred hits, but only 4 reviews. I'm guessing that isn't such a great sign. Or people are just being lazy. I like to think that karma works in some form or another, so, review! It may come back to you, and your work. 


	4. Re Introduction

YES! I got another reader! Which makes me wonder, how can someone get over 200+ hits and only 6 reviews from 3 different people? PLEASE REVIEW!

To my newest reader, Lou-Chan: THANK YOU! I'm so glad you like my story. I agree with you completely. I hate phics that have Erik meeting the OC and then suddenly falling in love with her, and sleeping with said OC. I don't think someone who's been so lonely all his life will do something like that. It's just plain disgusting. SAVE IT FOR MARRIAGE! Anyway, your English is really good, better than my French, I'd say. You should make an account on it's just easier to handle the stories.

MasqueradingThroughLife: Missed you! I know how you feel…chocolate is the stuff dreams and happiness is made of. Thanks for the cookie jar! Question: do you know how to put in breaks? You know, the lines between the A/N and chapter? 'Cause, being the tech idiot I am, I can't seem to figure it out. Help me!

A/N: I don't own POTO, or PTO, or OG, whatever you want to call it. But you can't have my plot or my OW, which I'm very proud of, by the way.

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**Chapter 4 – Re-introduction**

Erik crept down the stairs, highly sensitive of the surroundings. The few times he'd been out in daylight, it had unsettled him, and he felt exposed without the protection of darkness. The spiral stairs led to another long hallway, with the front door ahead. To his left was a small and cozy kitchen, where various confections seemed to be cooling. A quick look to see if it was empty, which it was, and Erik moved on. Just beyond that, there was a doorway to another room, which, unfortunately, was occupied.

Erik silently slipped into the comfortable living room, trying not to wake the woman asleep on the chaise. A sweeping glance showed the back door, a large bookcase crammed with books, and old furniture. He quickly turned his attention back to the woman, and for the first time, got a close look at his mysterious savior.

She was, in brief, Christine's polar opposite. Exotic, a sharp contrast to Christine, who had been a classical beauty. Thick black waves were tangled and hastily tied back, but escaping the confining ribbon to make a black halo around her face. Her face was, in sleep, serious and solemn. Though Erik couldn't see her eyes, he was still intrigued by the shape of her features. A strong nose, rounded chin, and the fullest and most sensual mouth he'd ever seen. Her skin was the shade of brown sugar, not like Christine's flawless porcelain complexion. At the thought of Christine's beautiful face, Erik's heart gave another lurch, and for a moment slipped back into the deadly ocean of sadness that threatened to drown him. Trying desperately to put Christine away from his mind, he continued the examination. Definitely, she was not of French or British descent. Her skin tone suggested Spain or Portugal, maybe even Italian. Her colouring hinted at a seaside home, full of sunshine and salty winds. Erik, never one to shirk a good puzzle, went through all the possible options as to her heritage, and circumstances.

Suddenly, Erik was looking into a pair of eyes. Startled blue-green eyes, like the Mediterranean Sea on a summer day, met sleepy dark brown ones, and the world seemed to stop. The woman rubbed sleep out of her eyes, and looked back up to Erik, who was frozen, unsure of himself, a terrified expression on his face. She looked at him, and smiled kindly, hoping that her nervousness didn't show. Sitting up, clothes rumpled, hair disheveled, she stretched, and smiled at Erik.

"Are you feeling well enough to be on your feet? I can manage to get you into your bed without help, but I don't want to attempt to carry an unconscious man up the stairs. Please, sit down." She motioned to the large armchair beside him, and Erik obeyed, still speechless and apprehensive. "I'm Eleyna Donatella, and welcome to Augustine." Here she paused, to see if he'd offer his name in return, but was met with silence. She carried on, determined to get something out of him. "What's your name?"

Here, Erik swallowed, not trusting his voice to function correctly. The one thing that had kept him alive every time his cowardly parents considered killing him. The one thing that wasn't as repulsive as the rest of himself, suddenly was lost in his bewilderment. "My name… is Erik." There, it was done. Erik had just told this complete stranger what he hadn't told to his beloved Christine. Poor, sweet, trusting Christine, who, even after ripping off his mask and being aware of his biggest secret, still hadn't asked this one simple thing. His name. Erik spoke it uncertainly, not knowing where to look or put his hands. Erik couldn't bring himself to look back into Eleyna's face, reminding himself, once again, that he was a monster who didn't deserve to live.

Eleyna was outraged. Her cheeks became flushed, tears started to form in her eyes, and she clenched her hands as she watched Erik stare at the floor, looking liked a whipped boy, ashamed and dejected. She noticed how he wouldn't meet her eyes, how he looked so uneasy around her. Eleyna had seen countless others with the same demeanor; it was one of someone who had lost all hope and the will to live. She knew that when someone's spirit was broken to the extent that Erik's was, healing was a hard and long road. But for this poor man sitting in front of her, she was willing to do anything.

"Nice to meet you, Monsieur Erik." Eleyna said, trying to calm herself down. Finally, she couldn't take it any longer. She pushed herself off the chaise, and walked over to Erik's chair. Erik was stunned, when suddenly, two bare feet and shapely ankles came into view. Her dress was too short: it barely reached her ankles. Erik looked up, into Eleyna's face, and was even more amazed to see her eyes swimming in tears, moments away from falling. But they weren't tears of fear, they spoke of sadness, and pity, and Erik found himself finally surrounded by the sympathy and kindness he'd wanted all his life. Sympathy and kindness he'd only experienced one other time before, from Madame Giry.

Eleyna reached down, and took one of Erik's large, strong hands in her own. "Please, please don't feel that you have to hide here. I live alone, and I am not bothered in the least by your face. But I am troubled by your obvious lack of self-respect. Life dealt you a cruel hand, and although I don't know what your life has been like exactly, I can imagine. And I'll help you in any way I can. Just trust me. Feel at home here. It's amazing how fast this place grows on you. Now, I don't like to listen to people who speak to the floor, so I'm going to have to ask you to just look me in the eye." Eleyna sat back down, and continued. "Now, I know you must have a lot of questions, so I'll answer them to my best ability."

Erik, slowly succumbing to the overwhelming kindness, raised his head and met Eleyna's gaze. It was open, friendly, and non-judgmental. Drawing a shaky breath, he started. "How did you find me?"

Eleyna squinted, trying to bring back the memory. "Ah, yes. I remember. It was in the…less reputable part of Paris. I have a friend there, who supplies the cocoa beans to me. I was making my monthly trip to the city for goods, and it was just after midnight. I had just finished getting the last of my supplies, when I walked out of my friend's flat, and nearly fell over. I looked down, and there you were, unconscious, lying in the middle of the alley. I knew enough about you within two minutes, and I realized that the best thing for you and your health is to stay under my care. So I loaded you into my cart, and drove home. You regained consciousness for long enough for me to get you into bed without carrying you up the stairs, and then you slept for four days. I broke your fever, and took care of some minor cuts and bruises, but other than that, you were fine." Finished, she sat back and smiled, waiting for the next question.

Erik was confused. She had said that she knew enough about him. What and how did she know?

Looking at Erik's perplexed expression, Eleyna laughed. Her skill had always rendered that reaction from anyone who observed them. "Let me guess. You are wondering what I knew about you, and how I found out those things. Don't worry; I've tricked many people with my skills. Some were even convinced that I was a fortune teller or psychic, but all it really is is a keen eye and basic reasoning skills. I discovered several things about you, just from your appearance.

First, you aren't a titled man. You couldn't have been a noble because you had no family rings, handkerchiefs embroidered with initials, or engraved cardholders, pocket watches, and the like. Nobles are very proud of who they are, and don't hesitate to flaunt it. Also, you were in the side of Paris commonly known as Criminal's Paradise. No noble is ever in that area, unless it is to make shady deals or satisfy foul desires. And then, they are not as obvious with their wealth as you were.

Second, you are, or were, wealthy. Your clothing, though very dirty, is well-made, with the finest materials. Your boots are of the finest quality, as well. They were obviously tailored to your specific needs. But you weren't _of_ Paris. That is, you didn't belong in Paris any more than I do. Though the craftsmanship and material is excellent, not to mention brand new, they aren't the latest Parisian fashions among the upper class. I observed many nobles on the streets that day, and their clothes didn't look like yours. That, I admit, perplexed me.

Third, you couldn't be a wealthy man beaten, mugged, and then left in the street to die. You had no injuries, the area around you didn't show any evidence of a recent struggle, and an expensive diamond ring was on your finger, clearly visible, even in the scarce light. But you had no coat on a rainy Parisian night. No thief takes a coat and leaves a diamond ring. So, another option was eliminated. You weren't the victim of a robbery.

Fourth, you weren't expecting to go outside when you were dressing. Your boots are brand new, and as I mentioned before, expensive, made of the finest leather. Definitely for indoor wear. There was no wearing around the toe or heel. But the soles are severely scuffed, and all the marks are fresh. So they were obtained that night, running through the uneven cobbled streets of Paris. Which you probably didn't anticipate. I knew, by now, many things, but I didn't, and still don't, know the answer to the big question. Who are you and what, or who, are you running from?"

Erik was yanked out of his open admiration by the question. Of course, she would wonder where her mysterious patient came from. That was a right she was entitled to, as his rescuer. Surely he had not emerged from the Seine, or fallen from the sky. But how could he reveal his shameful past to the woman who had just saved him? Even if his face wasn't enough to drive her away, without a doubt his past actions would. And for reasons unknown even to him, he suddenly felt desperate at the thought of being turned away.

Eleyna noticed his inner turmoil. Obviously, Erik was very reluctant to divulge his history with her, and she thought that it wasn't her position to push. Heaven knows, she has more than her share of secrets. One of which being the biggest reason why she'd brought Erik to her home. Eleyna eased his agony by making the decision for him. "If you don't want to tell me now, I understand. That wasn't a very fair question on my part; all I need to know if there is anyone waiting or looking for you back in Paris. You're welcome to stay for as long as you like."

"Thank you." Erik replied softly. His gratitude was expressed in every corner of his face, in every syllable uttered from his lips. "I don't have anyone looking for me, in Paris or anywhere else in the world. I'm afraid I will be intruding on your privacy for a moment longer. I do not wish to be a burden, and I will leave as soon as I am able."

Eleyna vehemently denied such an allegation. "Of course you are not a burden to me. To be completely honest, I welcome such company. I've lived alone for the last three years; I think I would lose my mind with no one but a dog for company. If you have no ties to the world, as I do, stay. Please. I've been very lonely for so long, I would be grateful for your companionship."

Erik couldn't hide his shock. A woman was practically begging him to stay with her! _Of course, that's because she doesn't know what you really are. Wait until she learns of your past, Erik. See how kind and caring she is then. She hasn't realized who she saved, but you won't be able to fool her for long, MONSTER! _That mocking thought entered his mind, and blinded him momentarily.

Eleyna was glad he didn't have any ties in Paris, or elsewhere. She didn't want him to just run away again. Life had opened the door; all Erik had to do was step through. And she'd be there, to guide him and help him. Not to mention redeem herself on the way.

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So, what do you think? I promise she's going to get grittier as the story goes on. Please review!

Note: Eleyna is pronounced el-AYNE-a.


	5. Ominous Clouds Held at Bay

A thousand apologies for making you wait! If I had my way, I'd lock up all the unforgiving teachers, throw away the key, and spend all day just writing. It's a billion times more fun than homework. Because of them, I can't promise frequent updates. But I try; and thanks for being patient with me!

I'm so embarrassed! Mlle. Fox was kind enough to point out that I had given Erik chocolate, but had forgotten to mention the eating of said candy! If you do want to read about Erik's experience, refer back to chapter 3. If you don't really care, and want the story to proceed, read on and ignore the above.

If you're wondering why my spelling's a bit odd, it's because I'm Canadian who happens to like all things British (especially Ioan Gruffudd. Yes, I know he's Welsh. Same with Christian Bale, who is also fabulous.). That's why I have u's on many words that Americans omitted.

Those of you who are my regulars but aren't admitting it: PLEASE REVIEW! I know you're out there; appearing on my favourites or alerts window but not on my review page. And another thing, why am I up to 400 hits, but only 11 reviews? Notice the difference? If this is worth reading, it's worth reviewing.

-Mlle. Fox: Thank you for pointing that out. BOTH mistakes. Dreadful errors on my part; I was too distracted by poor Erik's emotional problems. Thanks for the encouragement, and the constructive criticism. Also, I love your Phantom and the Secretary Mysteries. Quite clever, and the mysteries are engaging.

-Gigi: Yes, Vianne was a bit of an outcast, but obviously it wasn't for lack of trying to be nice on her part. Eleyna's different though, as you will no doubt find out. Thank you for reading!

-MasquaradingThroughLife: Ah, we've only been acquainted for four chapters, but I feel like we've known each other for much longer. I read all your oneshots and your biography; we have a lot in common. Anyway, love your quotes, love even more your conversations with your muse ( ;-p); and isn't Erik just absolutely FABULOUS! Your fics are great; no need to tell you something you already know. And thank you so much for the help with the rulers. It was positively driving me up the wall! Muchos gracias, merci beacoup, etc. Oh, and thanks for the brownies! I don't mind that they were re-gifted, although I can't say for certain that the original giver of said items feels the same.

- TrickstersThiefGirl: Thanks for the encouragement! Hope you like the next bit!

-GerrysJackie (you're so possessive!): A thousand thank you's for reading and reviewing. You have no idea how much I needed the boost. Of course, I'm going to comment on Erik's gorgeous… well _everything, _but right now Eleyna is a bit distracted. She's not a Mary Sue in your opinion, is she?

About Erik's insecurities: that's what I really like about Erik, and, ultimately, Gerard Butler. They are completely clueless as to their appeal. Well, I don't think Gerry's THAT oblivious. Erik, poor dear, thinks he's repulsive and ugly and undeserving. And Gerry (on a slightly different note, where did you get that quote from Gerard saying that he's not sexy?) seems so down to earth and funny. He seems (I say "seems" because I have never had the privilege of meeting him) like a genuine, grounded, real person. Not like the countless other people in Hollywood. Anyway, hope you like it! Also, I'm sorry about the Mary-Sue undertones in this chapter; but her childhood isn't counted as a character flaw, it's just the only way I could think of to put her in the position she is in.

Review, S.V.P!

A/N: It doesn't belong to me.

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Chapter 5: Ominous Clouds Held at Bay

He drifted through his thoughts, pensive. Erik was grateful, in ways that he possibly couldn't describe, for Eleyna's invitation, as well has her decision to stop inquiring about his past. He didn't know how to be a normal person, to carry on an ordinary conversation, and was, for the first time, ashamed of his lack of social skills and awkwardness. Granted, he didn't have the kind of background that bred good manners, but he'd always prided himself on being able to control the situation. Now, the roles were reversed, and Erik didn't like being on the receiving end of things.

He didn't know what he had done to deserve a second escape from the clutches of death. It was ironic, really, that he had been saved from an angry mob demanding his blood twice by a woman. This time, though, it wasn't Madame Giry who'd saved him. His saviour, Eleyna, quickly became the topic for Erik's train of thought. Though kind and compassionate, she was strange; there was no doubt of that. He found her talent fascinating, but her eccentricity was beyond any special skills. She was cryptic, and that intrigued him. She had to be at least twenty three or four, and beneath the sheen of youth and carefree joy, there were glimpses of a tragic past. Her bitter core showed through sudden far-off glances and quiet, brooding remarks that startled Erik with their gravity. Her circumstances were no less bizarre. A single woman, obviously by the lack of a wedding ring, living alone in a small cottage in the country. How does she survive? Why was she all alone? And why was she so desperate for human company? Questions distracted him so much that it took Eleyna several moments to get his attention.

"Monsieur? Monsieur? Are you feeling well?" Her accented French was anxious, urgent, and it jerked him out of his thoughts.

"No, no, I'm fine. Just lost in thought, that is all." Erik said, strangely feeling pleased by Eleyna's obvious concern. So many years since he was mothered by Madame Giry, who was more than a decade older than him, and he missed that feeling of being of important to someone else.

"Of course." Eleyna said, nodding. Then, with her most winning smile, she said "Now, should I leave you to your thoughts, or will you join me for luncheon?"

"I already ate," said Erik, apologetically. "Thank you. That was the most delicious meal I've had…in a long time." Erik felt so awkward thanking her. The words seemed to catch in his throat, and felt so insignificant and worthless compared to what he was receiving.

"You're welcome." Eleyna beamed. She rarely had anyone to compliment her; the thought of having some company in the lonely house and distract her from feeling depressed constantly pleased her. "Did you like the chocolate?"

Erik responded, still shy. "Yes, very. I hadn't had sweets in a long time, Mademoiselle Donatella, but those were really _la crème de la crème_. They were exceptional."

Eleyna laughed, the sound ringing in the room. "I'd hardly call them that, Monsieur. I am many things, but a master chocolatier I am not. Though I'm very glad you liked them. I have much more; if you desire some, just ask. And please, call me Eleyna."

"As you wish…Eleyna." Erik's tongue still hesitated on her name. It tasted exotic, filling his mouth and rolling off his tongue.

Eleyna nearly gasped at the way her name sounded, coming from Erik's lips. Her name had never been spoken like that before. Not even by Henri. Almost unwillingly, she found herself focusing on the melodious way Erik said her name. As if his voice was coated in honey. The deep, masculine tone seemed to resonate from deep within his chest, wrapping around her and making her spine tingle, grazing her ears, tickling her cheeks.

The sound of Eleyna's stomach growling in protest made her forget temporarily about Erik's intoxicating voice. Blushing, she stood up and said "I must check on my chocolates; they're cooling in the kitchen. And, of course, eat. Why don't you keep me company anyway, Monsieur?"

"Please, let me return the favour. Call me Erik." He said. This whole situation was almost entirely new to him, being on first name terms with someone. Erik hadn't spoken to someone who knew his first name since Madame Giry.

"Alright, Erik." Eleyna was secretly glad he'd asked her to call him by his first name. She had an aphorism with people - Keep them close or not at all. Eleyna hated formalities, especially since she had absolutely no training in being proper among strangers. Until she had come to France to live with her grandmother, she had lived by a set of rules entirely different from French culture.

To hear his name from another's lips would have been threatening to Erik, who'd always been on his guard, but strangely it didn't unsettle him. From Eleyna, the sound of his name spoken aloud was comforting. It gave him a sense of normalcy.

Complying with her suggestion, Erik accompanied Eleyna across the hall, into the kitchen. Her bare feet slapped against the worn wooden floor, and Erik followed silently behind. Every possible surface in the kitchen was covered in hardening chocolates. Row after dizzying row of candy sat on the tables, and there was no room for anything else. Carefully, as to avoid pushing any off the table, Erik sat down on a chair against the wall, trying not to get in Eleyna's way in the small kitchen.

Eleyna asked Erik "Are you sure you are not hungry? I made more than enough stew." Erik stated that he was indeed sure. Eleyna shrugged, and fetched herself a bowl. Sitting in the other chair and folding her legs underneath her, she ate, holding the bowl in her right hand.

While she ate, Erik debated with himself as to what sort of conversation would be proper in this situation. Clumsy, but insatiably curious, he asked Eleyna how long she'd been living alone for. The answer surprised him.

"For the past three years," she replied, after swallowing. "I've been living here with my grandmother. In truth, she wasn't my grandmother by birth, but she was a sort of godmother to me. This was her house, her land. She passed away when I was twenty two."

Erik nodded sympathetically. He had observed Madame Giry's pain when her husband had died; although Erik had never had to deal with the death of a loved one, he understood how devastating it could be.

The sudden silence was broken by Eleyna reminiscing about her grandmother. "She taught me how to make the chocolates, how to survive on my own. She became my entire world when I came here. She took care of me, made me happy. I miss her so much." Eleyna wasn't on the verge of tears, but Erik could tell that the hurt was still there.

Erik changed the subject to take Eleyna's mind off her grandmother. "And before you came here? What was your life like?"

It was Eleyna's turn to be startled. But she gave no outward indication, and Erik didn't notice anything was amiss. Wisely deciding to leave out certain details about her heritage and life before coming to France, she gave him a shortened version.

"My mother traveled a lot. We did everything we could to survive. I didn't have a permanent home for more than two months until my mother was killed, when I was sixteen. Then I came to live here, with my grandmother, who had practically raised her, so many years ago. It wasn't a perfect childhood, but I was happy with Mama."

Erik compulsively felt jealousy as he watched Eleyna lose herself in unspoken thoughts about her childhood. He'd never had a childhood; he didn't even remember his life before being sold to the gypsies. The concept of a loving mother was hard for him to fathom.

Finished with her meal, Eleyna placed the bowl in a tub of water off to the side, and examined the progress of her chocolates. Erik watched her move from table to table, avoiding sharp corners by instinct. Her silent scrutiny was done with the confident air of someone who knows what she's doing. He noticed, though, that she occasionally chewed her lower lip, completely oblivious to everything except for the problem in front of her.

Eleyna straightened, and promptly forgot about whatever she had been contemplating; Erik could see it in the way her brow unfurrowed and her jaw line softened. With nothing else left to do (save the laundry, but she despised washing clothes, and was more than happy to procrastinate.), she wondered about how one goes about entertaining a stranger.

"Is your room alright? Do you need anything?" Eleyna asked, awkwardly trying to play the part of the perfect hostess.

"Everything is wonderful. Please, do not concern yourself over such trifles." Erik replied, not wishing to burden Eleyna further.

"Erik, your comfort is neither trivial nor insignificant." Eleyna replied. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." She fervently hoped that Erik would learn to feel comfortable in her home, and she knew that it would take all her combined efforts to make that happen.


End file.
